


Forever and a Day

by Linnea_Bjornberg



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angsty Schmoop, Fluff and Angst, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Married Couple, Multiple chapters, POV Sherlock Holmes, Same-Sex Marriage, Sequel, Sick John, Sickfic, ongoing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-01
Updated: 2013-08-29
Packaged: 2017-12-04 00:53:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/704592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Linnea_Bjornberg/pseuds/Linnea_Bjornberg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A sequel to Love Letters, but can be read as a stand-alone.</p><p>"I will love you for as long as I live and longer. I will love you to the bloody moon and back! Ten times, and twenty times more." He speaks softly, his breath tickling at the skin of my hand. "I love you with all that I am. There is not a single thing that I would not do for you," He sighs. "You, Sherlock, are the love of my life, and you always will be."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

I'm woken up by John's fingers running through my hair, his soft breathing. He kisses the top of my head once I shift slightly to show that I'm awake. "Good morning, love." He murmurs. 

I smile, pressing closer up to his body with a small yawn. I start trailing my fingers along his chest absentmindedly, moving in circles. Mornings like this are always the best. Waking up to him like this. 

I tilt my head up and kiss him. Lightly, still smiling. "Good morning." 

It has been seven months since the wedding, since John and I got married. I have yet to find anything wrong with the situation... How could I have ever thought that marriage was silly and pointless? Just a useless piece of paper? An archaic ceremony that symbolized nothing more than an exchange of property for money: a sale. How stupid of me. 

Everything is wonderful, everything is perfect. 

John is grinning and starts kissing me again and again. "I really don't want to get up." He manages to tell me between each time our lips meet. "I could stay here like this with you all day." 

Lately, John and I have been doing everything together. Not that I mind. There hasn't been a single day where we haven't been right beside one another, our fingers interlocked, or our bodies tangled together until it was necessary that one of us leave. Which is only when John is at work. 

"Then stay." I whisper, dragging my hands down John's body to wrap my arm around his middle. I love touching him, the feeling of his skin against mine... 

The small window in our room hardly lets in light, so it would be easy to forget the time. To forget that there are things to do. To laze about in bed all day long. To do absolutely nothing and not care even a little bit. 

I can feel John chuckle, hear the quiet laughter. He can't stay. But he wants to. 

"I would want nothing more than to stay like this all day, but I have an appointment." He sighs. 

Oh, yes. He made an appointment a few weeks ago at Bart's... I nearly forgot. "Will it take you long?" I ask quietly. 

He kisses me. Apologetic. He'll be gone for a few hours at least. "Sorry." 

"It's alright." I reassure him, kissing him again. "Lestrade's been hounding me about a case." I smile. "Sounds interesting enough." Though I am fairly disappointed that John won't be there with me like he usually is. He's become an asset to my process. 

We lay quietly for a few more minutes before John has to get up, hesitantly propping himself up on his elbows. "You're so bloody gorgeous," He grins, looking down at me as I am smiling up at him. Every morning, he says this. Every morning, every afternoon, every night. 

And I am still not tired of hearing it. 

John throws his legs over the side of the bed and stands up, walking over to my side, holding out his hand. I take it and he pulls me up and out. The floor is cold beneath my feet, especially if compared with the warmth of the bed. "I'll go put the kettle on." I murmur, kissing his forehead before I start off for the kitchen. "You get ready." 

A few minutes later, I hear the shower begin to run and I take out a couple of mugs from the cupboard. Hopefully, my tea isn't as bad as I usually believe it is. Still, even if it is, John will humor me and drink all of it without complaint. I've always wondered why tea is so easy to make, yet it can turn out to taste absolutely terrible. 

I hear a faint shuffling sound behind me as I flick on the kettle, then arms snake around me, a body presses up against my back. "Aren't you supposed to be getting ready, Mr. Holmes?" I smirk, turning in the shorter man's embrace to face him. 

"Oh, I'm waiting on you Mr. Watson." John smiles up at me. "There's a hot shower waiting for us, and I'd hate for the water to get cold." He tugs at the waistband of my pants and the implications are clear. 

How could I resist? I would never. 

I nod and allow him to drag me into the washroom, already steamy from the hot shower. 

He kisses my chest, then kisses down more and more, again and again until he's on his knees. I'm laughing, combing my fingers through his hair. He kisses my hip and pulls down my briefs, working them down to the floor. Once I step out of them, John is back up on his feet stripping himself of his own underwear. 

I lean down and kiss him softly, taking his hands to lead him into the shower. 

Moments like this don't require speaking. John and I stand together under the stream of water in silence. Relaxing. 

We kiss, smile, touch... Giggle like children. We wash each other, caressing one another with such love and adoration. The only words we speak are barely more than breaths and quiet sighs. "I love you, I love you, I love you..." 

I love you... 

After John leaves, I'm off to the Yard. Lestrade still needs help with the same case he's been working on for weeks now. It's not very difficult to figure out, and I'm surprised that even Sally couldn't solve it. It was so obvious. So painfully obvious. A serial killer who'd already been in prison for several years now had somehow been committing more murders. A copycat killer. A copycat killer who has contact with the original suspect, one who would receive directions. 

They were not hard to locate, since the man hardly had any visitors. One search warrant later and the accomplice was in custody. 

Hardly any footwork on my part, little more than looking through paperwork and records. 

Boring. 

It's been four hours and I still haven't heard from John. I hope that everything is going okay. That he's healthy. 

Perhaps they ran a few tests and the results are simply taking a while to get back to the doctor. Not a big deal. John will text me when he's out. 

Lestrade is talking my ear off about how wonderful Molly is, that first date so long ago has turned into a serious relationship. I'm happy for them. It's about time Greg stopped running back to his ex-wife, and it's about time Molly has found someone who can love her. Truly love her. He's asked to move in, and she said yes. 

I'll have to stop by the morgue to see Molly on the way home. I believe Greg is going to propose soon, once they're settled in together. 

"I'm going to ask her to marry me, do you think she'll say yes?" Lestrade finally blurts out, feeling slightly uncomfortable asking me of all people. 

Molly would never say anything but yes to him. 

"Oh, without a doubt!" I reply with a nod. "She'd be ecstatic, absolutely overjoyed." I assure him. 

Lestrade is beaming. "Good! That's wonderful... Don't tell her anything, yeah?" 

I roll my eyes. "Fine." I mutter. Well, that's certainly no fun. "I'm still stopping by the morgue today." I pull out my phone to leave John a message. To tell him I'll most likely be in the lab when he leaves for home. To let him know that we could head home together. 

"Headed to Bart's to see Molly, Greg is planning to propose to her. Maybe see you there? SH" Send. 

"Really? That's great! Sorry it's taken so long, love. I'll be here when you are. I'll come down when I'm done. Love you. JW" 

"I love you, too. See you soon. SH"


	2. Contemplations

"God damn it!" John shouted, stumbling over his own feet. We're dancing in the sitting room, despite the fact that there's no music to lead us. His outburst startles me to say the least, but I steady him, gripping his arms to keep him up. 

"It's alright, you'll get it." I reassure him, looking down at him with a promising smile. He's shaking his head, clearly getting upset. 

"Sorry, sorry..." John mutters, wrapping his arms around me. "I just... My leg has been giving me a hard time lately is all." 

I nod. Yes, his limp has come back, he's been starting to use his cane more frequently now. But I have yet to figure out why. There is nothing that I can find that is causing him distress or unhappiness. 

I don't say anything. John will tell me in his own time. He always does. 

I won't push him, although I desperately want to. 

Why aren't you happy, John? You're worrying me. 

I rub his back, attempting to calm him down. He's beginning to tremble. "Don't worry, John." I murmur into his hair, pulling him down onto the sofa with me. "Calm down, it's fine." 

He shakes his head again, letting out a shaky breath. "I'm overreacting. "He sighs, curling up to me, throwing an arm around my midsection. 

"You'll get the hang of it." I promise him. He will get it soon. 

John shifts, sitting up to kiss my cheek. He's smiling softly. "I believe you." He leaves a trail of kisses until he reaches my lips, kissing me firmly. "I love you, you know that don't you?" He asks me, a slight hesitation in his voice. 

Does John think that I doubt him? He's given me no reason to believe that he doesn't love me. I know he loves me. 

"Because I do love you, Sherlock." He adds. "More than anything." 

He does. John loves me more than he should, more than I could ever possibly deserve. 

"Yes, of course I know." I smile, burying my face in John's shoulder. "You love me to the moon and back." 

"Ten times, and twenty times more." I hear him reply, finishing the statement. 

John's calmed down, his breathing more steady, less shaky. "You're alright?" I ask carefully, my breath against his neck. 

He nods. "I'm fine, love. I know this must be frustrating for you. You've got it perfect." He chuckled nervously, shaking his head. 

I sigh, lifting my head to press my lips to his forehead. "No, John. I have all the patience in the world for you." I tease, kissing him again. And again. 

"You're going to need it." John mutters. 

*** 

It's the evening before the big day. Molly's and Greg's big day. It's been months now since John had difficulties with our late night dancing. 

It has been months and I've only just now begun to notice. 

He still hasn't told me what's wrong. I've noticed a nearly imperceptible shaking in John's hands, and a pronounced weakness in his legs. I should have noticed sooner, I should have. Clearly, these jitters have been afflicting him for a while now. Anyone could have missed it, as they were hard to notice. 

But I should have. 

At the time I had thought that John was simply having a hard time learning the dance, but then it continued and continued until he decided that it would be best that we stop. 

He simply couldn't do it. 

My good doctor still continues to deny that anything is bothering him whenever I ask him. He just blames it on his leg, claiming that he'd been working on his feet too much at the surgery, that he was too exhausted. 

I believed him. But now I'm not so sure that I should. I'm contemplating what John could possibly be hiding from me. 

The fact that he's been using his cane more and more lately is worrying. He has rarely used it since he met me. John's leg only ever causes him pain when he's feeling sad, or terribly bored. When he's craving excitement. 

What is causing him to be in a state of melancholy? What is behind his emotional distress? Is the problem even emotional? Or is it physical? 

There is nothing that I can think of. 

The two of us haven't been in any sort of squabbles at all recently. I haven't had a real case in weeks, but I've been entertained adequately at home with John. 

I've been careful not to get on his nerves. 

Now that he's more or less stuck with me until one or both of us die, I believe that it is only fair of me to attempt to settle down for him. 

John is worth it. 

John has shown no indication of being unhappy with me, and it's almost a relief. I haven't driven him mad just yet. 

However, because he's not upset with me, and I haven't been able to deduce what's troubling him, I am left to worry. 

Perhaps it's just that things haven't been exciting enough for him? He is like me in that respect. He craves the chaos, the thrill of a chase through the streets of London. 

I look down at John in the darkness of our bedroom. We're tangled together in a mess of sheets, and he's sleeping soundly beside me. John is Lestrade's best man, and he's absolutely ecstatic. He shouldn't have been surprised, since Greg was his. 

Stamford was mine. He's the one who introduced me to John, and I am forever grateful for that. 

I'm carding my hand through John's short, sandy blond hair. It's soft, and I love to run my fingers through it while he sleeps. 

Sometimes I wonder if he's ever noticed. 

My mind drifts from my worries to the wedding tomorrow. I had originally been opposed to having a church ceremony, I thought that we could just sign a few papers and have it done with. However, after quite a bit of discussion and sulking on John's part, I changed my mind. 

John wanted a ceremony, and I didn't want to disappoint him. So, I suffered through it. We were together, and by the end of the day we were married. That was what really mattered. 

It had been small, with a few officers from the Yard, John's family, Mycroft, Molly, and Stamford. With the exception of the media and the press filling the rest of the available room in the church. That pleased me, since I hadn't wanted anything too large in the first place. Except for the damned BBC. 

And John had a lovely time, as well. 

Tomorrow he will be grinning like a fool beside Greg as the DI exchanges vows with Molly, wearing a suit that Molly picked out and looking so absolutely handsome. I may just have a difficult time watching the ceremony... 

John stirs beside me and I feel him lift his head to look up at me through the dim light offered from the small window across the room. I can't see him, and surely he can't see me. 

"You awake, love?" He mutters sleepily. I hear him scratch at his head, then release a small yawn. 

I nod my head and he shifts down to kiss my neck, settling back down next to me. "I'm thinking." I reply. I'm always thinking. 

John stretches his legs before relaxing once more, crossing his ankles with mine. "About what?" he asks. 

"You." I murmur simply. 

If I had gotten any more specific, John could possibly grow upset with me. So, I respond with a general answer. Though it should be understood between the both of us that John was always on my mind for one reason or another. At all times. 

John smiles, I can feel the small breath he lets out as he does so. "Anything specific?" He asked, now more curious than he had been. 

I bite my lip, hesitating for a moment. The wedding. I had technically been thinking about the wedding when he woke up. 

"Tomorrow," I say. "You're going to look completely irresistible." I tease. 

John chuckles. "I thought that I always look irresistible?" 

"Oh, you do, those bloody suits of yours..." I trail off. "You handsome devil." 

I don't dare bring up my worries about John's leg, or the shaking in his hands. My worries of what he's hiding from me. 

"Perhaps we'll be one of those couples who sneak off at the reception?" John suggests, his voice low. He traces his fingers along my clavicle, then kisses my shoulder. 

The idea is enticing. 

"Perhaps." I respond with a small grin. 

I hear John laugh softly once more, and he buries his head in the crook of my neck. He presses his lips against the skin briefly. "Alright, it's a date." He breathes. "Now try to get some sleep." John whispers, kissing me a few more times before curling up closer to me so we can readjust our tangled limbs. 

His breathing steadies in just a few moments, and within five minutes he's back in a deep sleep. 

Then I'm left with my mind for the rest of the night, running my fingers through John's hair until I eventually fall asleep...


	3. The Penny Drops

Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue. I’m not entirely sure how it is that I’ve remembered such a trivial saying, and something that a bride abides by, no less. Regardless, the old saying is engraved in my mind, and keeps running over and over through my thoughts. 

It’s silly of me, but I have to make sure that this wedding is perfect. John and I. It’s our wedding, and we will only get one. It is a once in lifetime event, and most of London will be watching and waiting for the “Big Kiss” as they’ve been referring to it. Since it was leaked to the press, the media has been causing a raucous over John and I. We’d originally wanted it to be a small and very private affair, but the blog post that John made to announce the engagement to our friends was not set to the private setting that he thought it had been… 

John and I both agreed not to see each other until the ceremony. Neither of us are particularly religious, and it’s a same-sex union, but we decided to follow the rules of any regular wedding to the best of our abilities. No seeing one another until that moment where we walk down the aisle together. John would lead several steps ahead, and I would follow. Harriet would stand beside John, and Mycroft beside me.

And it wasn’t until that moment that it all became real. When John and I met outside in the hallway before going inside the sanctuary; that very second is when it became so real and I couldn’t believe that it was actually happening. He looked at me. I looked at him. After months of planning… After months of trying to make every single detail of this one day absolutely perfect, for John, for me, for our guests… We were finally just moments away from getting married. Moments.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

***

“Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue…” I murmur absentmindedly as I look down at my tie. It’s crooked, and I reach up to fix it. My hands are swatted away as John hurries up to me, taking hold of the fabric of my tie to pull me down and kiss me softly. His lips linger on mine, barely touching mine, for a few moments before he spoke.

“You look incredible,” He smiled and kissed me once more before pulling back to actually fix my tie for me. I smile and nod a thank you in response, glancing him over as I did so. He was wearing a dark gray suit, one that Molly chose for him, it matched Greg’s. Under the jacket was a matching vest and a light blue bow-tie looped underneath the collar of a white shirt.

He’s the one who looks incredible.

I reach out, placing my hands on his chest, trailing my fingers down to his waist to rest my hands there. “Molly has better taste than I expected.” I say with a faux dramatic twinge. “You’re absolutely stunning, my dear Watson.”

John laughs and shakes his head, looking back up at me. “Whatever you say, Sherlock.” He shrugs, reaching up to smooth his hand over his hair.  
I only smile, pulling away from John to turn back to the mirror in the sitting room. My hair is neatly styled, and my simple black suit and tie are perfectly fitted and in place. My eyes fall to the handkerchief tucked into John's breast pocket, and it looks far too plain. Too simple, as I had expected. "Wait here," I say, turning back to face him. "I got you something."

He looks slightly confused, but watches me head out of the room. I'd ordered him a boutonniere earlier in the week, one that would match his suit. When I reentered the sitting room, he grinned. "Oh, you didn't have to do that."

"I believed that it would fit perfectly, and add that one final touch." I replied, walking up to him. I pin the flower to his lapel, then lean forward to press my lips to his forehead. 

John glanced down at the boutonniere and smiled back up at me. "It's lovely, Sher. Thank you."

I nod softly. "I believe you may just outshine the groom this afternoon, John." 

He rolled his eyes and shook his head. "That would be a disaster." 

"Oh, but a very handsome one." I tease.

The ceremony was not until the early afternoon, however John and I arrived over an hour early. John hurried off, leaving to go help Lestrade get ready, or to provide whatever sort of emotional support the man might need. He'd been married before, after all. I highly doubted that he'd be nervous. Though apparently he was, according to the texts that John was sending me.

Before finding my seat, I wander around the church. It was the very church that John and I had been married in, and we chose it more so for it's beauty than for the fact that it was a church and people get married in churches. It was gorgeous, small, but gorgeous. The stone work, the way it was constructed, contained so many small details that I couldn't help but notice every single one. I don't particularly care for religion, nor churches. But I could appreciate the beauty of it all.

The whole church is decorated with light blue flowers, mostly hydrangeas, accented by gray ribbons and silver. Molly did indeed have better taste than I'd expected her to, and I was pleasantly surprised to see how everything wonderful everything looked. It was simple, but it was definitely elegant. And I could appreciate that. She'd definitely made sure to have something blue. 

As I'm about to sit down, my phone buzzes with another text from John. Expecting it to be another story about Greg's anxiety, I'm surprised by what his message actually contains. 

"I can't do this, Sherlock... My leg is too much. Can you run back to Baker Street and get me my cane? I know I'm cutting it close, I'm sorry. JW"

I shake my head and stand up as soon as I read the message. Hurrying outside, I hail the first cab I see and type out my reply right as I settle down and tell the driver my destination. “Don’t be sorry. It can’t be helped. Will you be okay to stand that whole time? SH”  
“I’ll be fine, Sherlock. Don’t worry, my leg just hurts a little bit. Sorry. JW”  
“Stop saying sorry, John. It’s okay. I’m on my way to Baker Street now. SH”  
“Thank you. JW”

On the way to 221B, my mind keeps shifting back to the previous night. Back over the last week, and the last several months. The subtle decay of John’s ability to walk was hardly a subtlety anymore. It was becoming more and more obvious to me. And I knew there had to be something wrong. There must be. Something was very wrong and John wasn’t telling me. 

“John, what’s wrong? SH” I type quickly and send the message before I have the chance to change my mind. No secrets… Complete honesty. That’s what I thought John believed. He’d told me that he didn’t want any more secrets between us once I came back. He’d said it himself. No more secrets. 

“Nothing, just my leg. Please don’t worry. JW”

“Do you think I’m an idiot, John? SH”

“What? JW”

The cab pulled onto Baker Street and stopped in front of 221B, I asked the cabbie to wait since I’d only be gone for a moment, and then I was out to grab John’s cane from the chair in the sitting room. He always left it leaning up against the side of his chair, just in case he’d need help standing up. I took it and rushed back down the seventeen steps and then I was settling back into the cab. “Back to the church,” I directed. 

The driver nodded and then we were moving. I pulled my phone back out to reply to John again. “I have your cane. I’ll be there soon. SH”

“Okay. JW” 

I spend the rest of the ride staring out the window, not checking my phone although it vibrated with four new text messages. I would check them later. Right now my mind was preoccupied. I couldn’t help it. By trying to make it so that I wouldn’t be worried, John was worrying me more than he would be if he would just tell me what it is that is ailing him. I know it’s not intentional. I know he’s trying to keep me from getting hurt for whatever reason. But his plan is backfiring. Miserably. 

The cab arrives at the church fifteen minutes before John and Greg have to go up to the pulpit, and I gave the driver a generous tip for how quickly he’d gotten me there. After paying my fare, I hopped out of the vehicle and jogged up the front steps to push past a growing crowd of people. It took me a few minutes to find out where John was, but after asking a few other guests, I found him. He was sitting down in a room off the main hallway with Greg standing beside him, a hand on his shoulder. John looked upset. 

He looks like he had been crying. 

“John…” I walk over to him, and kneel down in front of him. I set his cane down on the side of the chair, just as he does at home. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?” I ask, looking him over quickly, over and over again. “Does it hurt?” 

John shook his head, letting out a shaky breath. “No… I’m fine.” He tried to reassure. 

I knew otherwise, John wasn’t fine. I reached up and placed by hands on either side of his face, holding it softly. It was precious, and it had to be handled carefully. “Are you unhappy? Is that why your leg is… John, if you’re not happy with me, you need to tell me.” 

I spared a glance at Lestrade, he looked mortified. 

“No!” John shook his head frantically. “No, Sherlock… I—you make me the happiest man I could ever be.” I said, his eyes were soft as he looked at me. “Listen… Can we not do this now? Can we not do this here?” He asked. 

His voice had grown small, and desperate. 

“Please…” I tried again. 

“Sherlock. Not here.”

Lestrade sighs and pats John’s shoulder; I look up at him and he gives me a small shrug. He knows. Lestrade know what it was that is bothering John. He knows and he wasn’t going to tell me. Of course he wasn’t. It was not his place to tell me. It was John’s. 

And that is when it hit me.

The shaking in his hands, the deterioration of his legs… John wasn’t bored, nor was he having troubling memories of the war, or any of his usual ailments. The frequency of visits to Bart’s during his time off from the surgery…  
It was all making sense now.

John was ill. He was ill and I didn’t know. I didn’t notice. 

***

"I love you with all that I am. There is not a single thing that I would not do for you," John is standing right in front of me. In front of over two-hundred people, John is speaking his vows to me. "You, Sherlock, are the love of my life, and you always will be." 

My turn. "John Hamish Watson," I squeeze his hands that are holding mine. "You are perfect. To me, you are my equal, my other half. My beloved. I love you with all of my heart, no matter how small it may be."

"I will love you for as long as I live and longer. I will love you to the bloody moon and back! Ten times, and twenty times more." John adds, a wide grin on his face.

I smile softly, having heard those words many times before. “And I, John Watson, will love you for forever and a day.”


	4. Changes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter, but long enough to deliver the message I was hoping to convey.

I do have a hard time watching the wedding. My eyes were fixated on John the entire time, watching him and only him. Eventually I just tuned out everyone’s voices, I wanted my full attention focused on him, I wanted to watch him and only him. Make sure he was okay, that nothing else was harming him. 

He was looking at me as well, the entire time. It felt like forever, but obviously it wasn’t. His eyes were on mine, and mine on his. He realized that I’d found out. Found out that he was ill. Found out that he was keeping things from me. Lying to me. 

For how long? How long was he keeping this a secret from me? 

I can tell that John is struggling to stay standing, both of his legs have gotten weaker and weaker as each day passed. The shaking in his hands were much more noticeable to me now, as well. All of these symptoms were screaming out at me, demanding to be noticed, demanding attention. 

I hate that I hadn’t realized sooner. 

Why hadn’t I realized sooner? It was John. My John. My husband. Someone that I knew absolutely everything about, someone who couldn’t hide a single thing from me. Until now. The very fact that John has been hiding his illness from me worried me, then knowing that he was sick worried me even more. 

What was it? How severe was it? Was it terminal, was it treatable? So many questions kept repeating themselves in my mind. Over and over again, I kept wondering the same things while looking at John, standing up at the altar beside Greg. He was happy for them, but clearly the wedding was not a priority to him now. He was happy for Greg and Molly, of course he was. I was as well. 

Why was it that horrible things can happen on such happy occasions? On such good days? And why do those horrible things have to happen to the best of people? Why do those things have to happen to John? He's a good man. He's the best man I've ever known, even better than myself. Definitely better than me. He's kind, caring, courageous... He's so brave; willing to do anything for a stranger's wellbeing. 

Like he did for me. 

I love this man more than I ever thought it would be possible for me to love someone. Before I met him, this amazing man, John, I rarely regarded any other human being as someone to care about. Not even my family had proven so important to me. At a young age I learned that caring is a disadvantage, and from then I began to build my walls. 

As a young boy, I’d experienced the pain of loss. And I never wanted to feel it again, which is why I began to construct my walls. Monuments of bitterness that grew taller and longer every day. It was John that tore them down, any walls I’d built to distance myself from him were brought to the ground. Only for him. Right away, John became the most important person in my life. 

And I fell in love with him, hesitantly, carefully, curiously… And by opening myself up to him that way, I changed. I became a new man. He changed me and I hadn’t realized it until that time, last winter, when he was away at that medical conference. I had to live a whole week without John, and I was painfully aware of his absence. 

I can't imagine a world without him anymore. I can't imagine my life without him in it. 

I feel like I'm already lost. 

But he's still here. He's still breathing, he's looking right at me. His heart is still beating, and he's still with me. He's still mine, and I'm still his. 

I part my lips, meaning to speak, but realize that now is not a good time. Greg and Molly are speaking their vows. 

John notices and smiles, moving his lips. "I love you." 

I smile back, whispering as softly as I can, though I don't really care if the people I'm sandwiched between notice. "I love you, too."


	5. Reception

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that it's been so long since my last update, dear readers! I've been dealing with some health issues of my own, and they're getting in the way of my writing. I'm keeping my fingers crossed in hopes if spending less time in the hospital soon.

That night, John and I didn't dance. Not once. We'd practiced it over and over, but I couldn't bring myself to allow John to overwork himself. Instead, the two of us sit in our assigned seats, holding each other's hands above the table. We're silent. I know that there's something very wrong with him, but he hasn't said a word to me. And he knows that I know.

He runs his thumb over the top of my hand, over and over. A repetitive, calming motion. His hands are rough against mine like always. Warm. However, they're shaky. More so than they'd ever been. It's these small changes that I should have noticed sooner. How could I have been so foolish to believe that John's leg was bothering him although he could barely walk, let alone stand? Why didn't I notice these changes? Why hadn't I questioned them earlier?

We sit, watching the couples twirling around the dance floor, pressed close together and smiling. Laughing. Kissing. Loving one another. John has a small grin on his face, though his eyes aren't smiling with him. He's happy for them.

I wish that it could be John and I dancing, having fun... Not having to worry. Instead he and I are sitting in a depressing silence, not saying what needs to be said. We did this for over an hour before John spoke, lifting my hand to his lips to kiss my knuckles.

"I think it's time for us to be that couple that sneaks off." He smirked, kissing my hand again. I can't help but smile. Yet I shake my head. No. If we leave, then we'll have to talk. I won't be able to stay quiet about this. I'll question him, and he'll have no choice but to tell me what's ailing him. I don't want to know, and I don't want to talk about it. We have to, though. It's inevitable. It's the elephant in the bloody room.

John scoots his chair closer to mine, still smiling softly. He's acting as though everything is fine. Perhaps his calmness is a reassurance. Everything will be fine.

After a few moments hesitation, I lean forward and press my lips to his. Softly. Carefully. Everything will be fine.

He smiles against my mouth; I can feel his lips curving upward. "Can we leave then?" He murmurs, pressing forward to whisper in my ear. "You look so dashing, and I'm finding it hard to resist having you right here and now."

I chuckle, nodding. Yes, everything will be fine.

John is still John. Even as he is kissing me roughly, pushing me up against the wall as we enter our flat. He's still my John. I cup his cheeks on either side to hold him there with me as my lips mirror his passion. I'm pinned there, my back to the wall, by John. In this moment it is just he and I. No one else. No other thoughts... No illness. Simply John and I.

The two of us stumble up the stairs, tripping over our own excitement. We steady each other every time, until we fall into the sitting room. John slams the door behind us, and that's the end of it. His lips set me on fire, though they only ghost over my own before working their way down my jawline to my neck. Licking, sucking, biting... John...

"John..." I breathe, closing my eyes. I want him. I need him. Whatever he wants, whatever he needs, I will give it to him.

Getting each other undressed is awkward, and not as simple as if we were dressed normally. Tuxedos are inconvenient... Keeping us away from each other longer than necessary just for the sake of being difficult. Once I stripped John down to his pants, I saw it as a small triumph. He was working clumsily at my trousers, his hands working too quickly for him to focus on getting them undone.

"I'm going to have you six ways to Sunday once I get you out of these." He mutters, finally tugging the wretched trousers down and letting them fall to the floor around my ankles. He rests his hands on my hips, then tugs me closer. "I need you. Always."

I nod, pursing my lips into a hard line. If that's what John needs, then that is what he will have. "I love you," is all I can utter in response. Don't ever leave me.

Don't ever leave me. I will never leave you. I love you.

John's hands slide up my sides, trailing across my chest and up to my face. His fingers caress my cheeks, and his eyes are softer than they were a few moments ago. "I love you, too..." He murmurs, brushing a stray curl back from my forehead.

And with that, he pulls me down to him. He kisses me softly, not with the desperation that we had expressed earlier. We both know what we meant. We both know what is happening. But everything will be just fine.

It has to be fine. I can't lose him. I need him, and he needs me.

As he lays me down, he does it with such care... Like I could break at any moment. He handles me like the finest china the world has ever seen. I'm worried... The flames that had engulfed the two of us not long ago have been smothered. Everything is slow now, calm, soft. Careful. Delicate.

John is hovering over me, looking directly into my eyes. Burning right through me. There's the fire. The flames, the passion. It's still there. Everything is fine. I don't have anything to worry about right now. Right now is just John. John and nothing else...

Then he crushes his lips against mine and our tongues are tangling together within seconds, our bodies pressing against one another with such intensity that I can barely keep my mind from going blank. I throw my arms around him, trailing my fingertips up his back, feeling his skin rubbing with the pads of my fingertips. He's so warm. So warm than I can feel myself melting into him. I wish that I could stay immersed in his warmth forever.

He pulls back to breathe soon enough, and everything slows down again. He doesn't want to rush this. John is holding as much of his vigor back as he can, wanting to slow down and enjoy this. Enjoy us. I can feel it in the way he touches me, and the way he kisses me so languidly. The way he smiles at me, the way he looks at me. I can read him as plainly as I can read a book. Yet I've never grown bored with him.

John kisses down my body, and each time his lips make contact with my skin, they burn right through me. He flicks his tongue on my left nipple, sucking at it briefly to earn a soft moan from me in reply. He knows what to do to me. I can feel him let out a breathy laugh, and he glances up at me wordlessly. "Wha-What?" I ask defensively, embarrassed for no real reason.

"Nothing..." He replies, shaking his head. "I just love the noises you make for me." John shifted atop of me, moving back up to nuzzle my neck and kiss it again.

He's working at the same spot as he'd been earlier, suckling at it playfully, kissing and nipping softly with his teeth. The sensations of pleasure flow throughout my whole person. I can't control myself... I moan again and again. "John... Oh, John..." 

John's hand travels down my chest, down my abdomen... I shiver, absolutely thrilled. My breath is shaking out of me, his hand moving lower and lower... Slowly. He's toying with me. He's making me wait for it. I hope he knows that the longer he makes me wait, the longer he's waiting. I don't want to rush this, not tonight. This isn't just some shag after an adrenaline inducing case... This isn't lazy morning sex before John goes off to the clinic... It's more than that. So much more. 

My sighs and quiet moans are muffled, almost silenced, by John's lips. He's moved up from my neck, sealing his mouth over mine. He still tastes like champagne. I love champagne. I love him. John's fingers stop brushing along my skin, hovering above hip, right over the waistband of my boxers. Breathing has suddenly become difficult, and it's almost as though I stop entirely. 

John speaks against my lips, his voice low. He's started to pull that last bit of clothing off of me, revealing my arousal. My want, my need. "I love you," he kisses me again. "and I'm going to worship you tonight, you glorious man." 

I nod quickly, blushing bright red. John had never said anything like that before. 

"You're perfect," He continued. "so absolutely beautiful and perfect... I'd make love to you forever if I could." 

"Oh, now you're just being silly." I reply quietly, not sure how to respond. 

He shakes his head. "No, I'm not." He murmurs. "I want to have you always."

I bite my lip and look up at him. "Then you'll always have me." I reassured, moving my hands to hold his face. "I'm yours forever now, remember?" I ask, showing him the ring in my finger as a reminder. 

John takes my hand and kisses the palm of it, grinning. "Yes... I could never forget."He murmurs, and pulls away from me to clumsily rid himself of his pants. 

All that is before me is perfection, and I am in awe in front of him. John has lost a little bit of weight, which I hadn't noticed until now. Was it on purpose, or was it natural? Doesn't matter. His body is marvelous... Toned as though it were a Roman marble sculpture, the skin a lovely shade of tan in complexion. It still shocks me how a man as handsome as he can find someone so pale, thin and alien-looking, attractive. It is a wonder, and it always will be. 

He settles his hips down slightly, then rocks them forward, our erections rubbing together. The contact nearly makes me whine for more, but I control myself and bite my lip. It would have been ridiculous for me to make such a noise. I want him to touch me. I want him to set me ablaze, I want the flames spreading throughout me to grow larger until I explode. 

The pleasure; so intense that I cry out for him. He wants that from me every time, and I deliver. I can't give him any less than that, and I don't try. It is what he does to me. 

John grinds down again, applying a little more pressure. Harder. I gasp and he props himself up on his left elbow as his right hand works its way down my torso, then down my abdomen... Then even further down to my hips until finally, finally, he brushed his fingers along my shaft which causes me to shiver. His hand wraps around me, and he gives me a few strokes before moving his thumb along the tip. A wet sensation. We've only just started, yet at this rate I won't last very long. 

It is what he does to me. He excites me, he makes me ache and then fills me with bliss. 

It is simply what John does to me. 

Please don't ever leave me. Promise me that you won't, John. I will beg if I have to, I will weep and I will beg. 

Don't leave me. 

He strokes me a few times, earning a few low moans from me in return. My eyes are closed, and my whole body is hot. The more he touches me, the more I feel as though I could lose myself at any moment. Too quickly am I reaching the pinnacle of my bliss. John knows this, and he pulls away to sit up."Are you ready?" He murmurs and kisses me deeply and his hand wanders about the floor, finding his trousers. He fished around in the pockets clumsily until he found exactly what he was looking for. 

I'm ready. Of course I'm ready. John pulls away one last time and I breathe out a small "Yes, please John..." A quiet beg.

I want to lose myself in you forever.


End file.
